


But You're Not Punk Rock

by worrisomeme



Series: Steve Rogers: 21 [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Punk!Steve, just mentioned briefly once, not described in any way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 18:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9137170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worrisomeme/pseuds/worrisomeme
Summary: Tomorrow Steve’s opening another gallery. He’s nervous and excited and it is getting some awesome buzz amongst the local art scene so of course it’s time for something awful to happen. Life doesn’t stay perfect for long, after all.Written for Cat who is amazing and loves my punk!Steve and requested jock!engineeringstudent!Sam :3 I swear it ends happy!!! I swear!!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rc1788](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rc1788/gifts).



Tomorrow Steve’s opening another gallery. He’s nervous and excited and it is getting some awesome buzz amongst the local art scene so of course it’s time for something awful to happen. Life doesn’t stay perfect for long, after all.

He’s picking his way through the store, trying to find a new suit to go with his new hair, when a once-familiar pair of arms slips around his waist.

“Fancy running into you,” the once-familiar voice whispers in his ear, rough and taunting and cruel.

His heart stops, his breath catches, and for a moment he’s genuinely not sure if this is real or some kind of flashback hallucination thing.

“I like the new color,” the voice goes on, one hand slipping up his chest as the other pulls back just long enough to card itself through his hair.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to take a deep breath. He feels like his body is shutting down. He wants to wrench himself free, to scream and beat the guy bloody. But he can’t. He can’t move. Not with him. Never with him. He never could. He’s the one person that makes his body choose flight over fight every time.

He’d thought he was over this, that he’d finally healed. He reminds himself that recovery is not a straight line.

“Brock,” he says, barely above a whisper. His voice breaks halfway through the name.

“Missed you Stevie,” Brock breathes into his ear and a terrified shiver runs down his spine.

“Don’t call me that,” he manages, a little louder this time. “Let go of me.”

But his ex doesn’t let go. His hands continue gliding across his chest and hips and Steve has to squeeze his eyes shut again. He thinks he’s going to puke. “Don’t be like that baby,” Brock coos.

“Let go of me or I’ll start screaming,” Steve threatens, refusing to open his eyes. “I’ll call the cops. That restraining order is still perfectly valid, you know.”

Brock’s hands stop instantly, his body tenses. He lets go of the smaller man and backs away. “Fine, _slut_ ,” he snarls. “You wanna be like that? Fuck you.” The string of horrible names and insults continues until he’s far enough away that Steve can’t hear them anymore.

He wants to cry and puke. He wants to take a scalding shower and scrub all his skin off. But he’s got a gallery opening tomorrow and so instead he finds the perfect suit first.

The second he gets home, though, he lets it all go. He throws up twice and stays under the burning water until it runs cold. When Clint gets home halfway through his shower, he doesn’t have to ask what happened.

Bucky doesn’t know about Brock and when he comes over later that night, Steve still doesn’t tell him. He just curls up in his lap and barely says a word all night.

 

 

*

 

Tonight Steve’s opening another gallery. His hair is teal for the occasion and it matches his suit perfectly. He’s alone for now and if he’s totally honest with himself he’s a little nervous, still raw from yesterday’s encounter.

“These are amazing,” Natasha says, slipping an arm around his waist as she settles in next to him. “Seriously. Mind-blowing. I don’t know where you come up with these ideas.”

“I don’t know, honestly,” he laughs nervously and shrugs, blushing just a little. “They’re not that good. Shut up.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes, kissing his cheek. “You’re so full of shit,” she says. “Where’s Bucky?”

“He’s scheduling the last of his classes.” Steve can’t help but fidget a little. “I hope he gets here soon.”

Nat gives him a little reassuring squeeze with the arm around his waist and then slips it free. “I’m gonna go look around some more,” she says. “I haven’t seen them all yet. I’m sure he will be.”

A half an hour passes and on top of his professors and the regulars from the gallery, their entire circle of friends has shown up. Even Bruce is there, and he’s only even really spoken with Steve a few times.  But they support their own and the place is Packed. Yeah, with a capital P.

Except Bucky still isn’t there and hasn’t answered his texts and for the first time in the nine months they’ve been dating, anxiety is ripping through Steve’s veins like electricity.

Just when he thinks he might throw up again, he finally, _finally_ gets a text back.

[ **Bucky:** omw]

That’s it? Steve has spammed the shit out of him, making sure he’s alright, and all he gets back is three measly letters? If he wasn’t nauseous before, he sure as hell is now.

He reminds himself to calm down. Bucky isn’t Brock. He’s never given Steve a reason not to trust him. He wouldn’t be giving it a second thought if he hadn’t run into that asshole yesterday. Brock can’t hurt him anymore. He doesn’t control his life. He can’t let that pathetic excuse for a human being control his emotions or behaviors anymore. He’s strong. He’s Steven Fucking Rogers.

Pumped up again, he makes his way around the room, greeting everyone and answering questions. Another twenty minutes pass and he feels great. He’s soaring. Everyone loves his work. A couple girls (and even a couple guys, for that matter) were near tears when they approached him.

He feels _amazing._

Until the door swings open again and Bucky finally makes his way into the gallery, his arm wrapped around another man’s shoulders. Someone devastatingly handsome. Someone he doesn’t recognize. Bucky’s laughing loudly and smiling so wide his eyes are crinkling up in the way Steve adores and the guy has his arm around his waist.

Normally, this wouldn’t phase him. They’re always affectionate with their friends. To a point where they get strange looks, even. But today? Today this makes his heart drop into his stomach.

But Bucky doesn’t know about Brock. Steve hasn’t told him and that’s on him, so he’ll just have to suck it up and suffer quietly.

“Hey baby,” Bucky says as he approaches him, that smile never leaving his face. “Look who I ran into!”

“Hey you,” Steve replies, fitting his trademark cocky grin onto his face. “Who’s this handsome young fella?” he jokes, mask perfectly in place.

“Sam Wilson,” the guy says with a charming smile and an outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you.” His arm is still around Bucky’s waist.

“You too,” Steve replies. He eyes the hand just a fraction of a second longer than he should, fights the urge to be petty and ignore it all together, before taking it and shaking.

“Sam and me were roommates freshman year of undergrad,” Bucky explains. “He just moved up here to _finally_ start his Master’s program.” He laughs and elbows Sam a little. “Too busy making it big in football to finish his education,” he teases.

Oh god. He’s a jock? Steve fights the urge to roll his eyes. Guys like him used to shove him into lockers in high school. This literally could not be worse if Sam just bent Bucky over and took him right then and there. He thinks he’s going to puke again.

Oh shit, he’s been quiet too long. He forces a little laugh and hopes the other man doesn’t notice. Sam doesn’t, or at least he doesn’t seem to, but Bucky does and he eyes his boyfriend questioningly. Steve shoots back a look that says not to worry about it.

“I didn’t make it big,” Sam rolls his eyes fondly and elbows him right back. “I wasn’t in the NFL or anything.”

“You still made money. You were a pro,” Bucky pulls himself from the silent conversation like it wasn’t even happening.

“So what made you decide to start school back up?” Steve asks. He keeps his tone light and playful as he adds, “Couldn’t make it in the big leagues?”

Bucky narrows his eyes at him but Sam just laughs. “You’re a little firecracker, huh?” he teases. “I just realized my real love was engineering. No big, dramatic story or anything.”

Steve’s blood boils at the ‘little firecracker’ comment and Bucky finally pulls himself from his friend’s embrace to hold him back. He rests a hand on the small of his boyfriends back and rubs soothing, warning little circles into the skin.

 _He didn’t mean it like that_ , he says without words. _Stand down. What’s gotten into you today?_

“He’s already made the team here, though,” Bucky says, with his words this time. He’s still not letting on to the silent conversation he and Steve are having, though Steve’s pretty sure Sam can tell by now. Either that or he really is that thick. “So at least he’ll still get to keep playing.”

“Right,” Sam laughs. “It’s not my first love, but it’s up there. Plus it’s a good way to relieve stress,” he jokes.

“Sex is better, isn’t that right baby?” Steve shoots Bucky a challenging look and the brunet chokes a little and blushes.

“Well, I mean…” he trails off with a sheepish grin, slipping his arm the rest of the way around his waist and pulling him into his side.

Sam laughs and rubs the back of his neck with one hand. “Well hey, enough about me,” he says. “Buck’s told me all about you and I wanna see this amazing art he’s been bragging about.”

Steve gives the closest to a genuine smile he’s managed since meeting Sam and gestures to the walls. “Help yourself,” he says. “’S what it’s here for.”

“You gonna come?” he asks Bucky.

“Go on ahead. Wanna catch up with my little firecracker first,” he teases, smiling fondly at his boyfriend as the smaller man just glares at him.

“Call me that again,” Steve hisses through clenched teeth the second Sam is out of earshot. “See how long it is before I suck your dick again.”

“Drop the act,” Bucky says, pointing an accusing finger. “I’m not buying it. You’ve been acting weird since last night. And what was all _that_ about?”

Steve rolls his eyes and tugs himself free of his boyfriend’s grip. “All what?” he asks, though he’s not fooling _anyone._

“Who the fuck are you?” Bucky asks, brows furrowed and voice hushed so as to not make a scene. “Because you’re sure as hell not Steve Rogers.”

Steve feels his heart break and anger bubbles up in his stomach all at once and he’s not really sure how to respond. He wills the tears to not well up in his eyes and is mostly successful. This is his own fault, he reminds himself. He kept this from Bucky. He thought this side of him was dead and gone, so he kept it from him for nine months and now he’s paying for it.

Natasha’s got some kind of psychic connection to the blond or something and she’s barging her way into the argument instantly.

“What the hell is going on?” she hisses, glaring accusingly between the two of them.

“Someone’s kidnapped my boyfriend and replaced him with this crazy person,” Bucky just keeps pushing and it’s getting harder to fight the tears.

“I’m not crazy!” he snaps, and all eyes turn to them just briefly. They want to keep watching, he can tell, but thankfully they don’t. He’s not crazy. His feelings are completely valid. Nothing with Brock was his fault and his feelings are completely valid and he’s not crazy.

Natasha glares at Bucky, gets in his face, prods him in the chest, hard, with a long finger and a sharp fingernail. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she hisses. “You, of all people, are gonna fucking dare to call him crazy? After all the fucking Brock shit- And then yesterday, on top of it? What the _fuck_ James?” Her voice is still just above a whisper.

Steve, standing behind Natasha now, seems to have completely shut down. He’s lost in his own head, in his affirmations.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asks her. “And who’s Brock?” His anger is fading a little now, replaced with confusion.

The redhead’s face shifts instantly from anger to something Bucky can’t even recognize. “What?” she asks, stunned, then rounds on the smaller man behind her. “What?” she repeats, a little louder, and it shakes Steve from his own thoughts finally. “You haven’t _told him_?!”

Steve blushes and runs his fingers through his hair, fighting the urge to turn and run. Instead he just focuses on his shoes. “No?” he replies, a whisper, barely audible.

Nat lets out a frustrated sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“What hasn’t he told me?” Bucky demands, the anger returning, though it’s mostly from fear.

“This isn’t a conversation you should be having here,” she says with another sigh. “Just…” she trails off, can’t even find words, and then sighs again and puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Get through tonight, go back to his place, Clint won’t be there, and make him tell you about Brock.”

 

*

 

So they do. They get through the night and Steve apologizes to Sam, even promises they’ll go out for dinner and drinks the following night. They get back to Steve’s place and Bucky waits until they’re both changed into pajamas before he brings it up.

“So,” he starts, flopping onto the bed and patting the empty spot next to him.

“So,” Steve echoes, staring at the spot hesitantly before climbing under the covers.

“You’re gonna make me ask, huh?” Bucky says, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend and tugging him closer.

Steve sighs and nuzzles into the brunet’s chest. “You’re gonna make me tell you?”

“From the way it’s been affecting you the past two days, I think it’s probably a story I should hear.”

Steve lets out another heavy sigh and closes his eyes, nodding. “Okay, okay,” he says.

Bucky runs his fingers through his hair comfortingly as Steve recalls the story. A story of young love, or something that seemed like it at first. Of careless, endless cheating and physical abuse and Brock claiming him over and over, long after consent had been withdrawn. He tells the story of a restraining order and recovery, too. Of piecing himself back together and becoming stronger. Or so he thought.

He tells the story of running into his tormentor the day before and the way he’d touched him and the way it had shaken him to his core. And it’s only when he’s finally done with the story that he dares open his eyes, look up at his boyfriend.

When he does, though, he’s surprised. He’s surprised because Bucky isn’t lying there with fists and jaw clenched. He’s crying. Silently, yes, but the tears are undoubtedly streaming down his cheeks as he holds Steve close.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing the smaller man’s forehead.

“No, hey, it’s okay,” Steve breathes, kissing him softly. “I’m sorry. I let him get to me and I wasn’t myself and I’m sorry. You didn’t know.”

Bucky nods, takes a breath. “I love you,” he says, kissing him again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Steve replies, a sincere smile spreading across his face for the first time in two days.

 

*

 

The next day Steve is a little nervous as he steps into the restaurant. He straightens his shirt and tucks the bouquet of yellow roses behind his back as he’s lead to the table where Bucky and Sam are already waiting for him.

“Hey baby,” Bucky calls, that eye-crinkling smile on his face again. “You look amazing.”

Steve blushes and smiles, bashful and genuine. “Thanks,” he says and runs his free hand through teal strands. “Hey Sam.” He holds the roses out to the other man and averts his eyes as the blush on his cheeks grows darker. “I got these for you. To say sorry, again, for yesterday,” he explains as he scoots into the booth next to his boyfriend.

Sam chuckles as he takes the flowers. “Hey man, don’t worry about it,” he says. “Bucky kind of explained. It’s cool.” He smells the flowers before setting them down on the empty seat next to him. “I appreciate the gesture, though. They’re beautiful.”

“You never buy _me_ roses,” Bucky teases, fake pouting as he kisses Steve’s cheek.

“Yeah well I’m never a jerk to you,” Steve teases back, slipping his legs across the brunet’s lap.

“You’re always a jerk to me!” Bucky laughs, pinching his boyfriend’s sides playfully.

Steve feigns offense and puts a hand to his chest. “Why I never! Do you see how mean he is to me?” he jokes, turning to Sam. “You see what I have to put up with?”

“He’s a handful,” Sam agrees, laughing, with a nod.

“Don’t encourage him!” Bucky laughs, kicking his friend playfully under the table. “I never should have let you two meet.”

“Too late,” Steve grins, winking at Sam. “You dug your own grave with this one.”

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up so much more angsty ((and longer)) than I meant it to! Seriously lol But! It is only the beginning! Sam will make another appearance in future installments!
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> As always, comments, kudos, etc are SO very appreciated and you can find me on [tumblr](http://worrisomeme.tumblr.com) :D


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